


John and the Fridge

by Astray



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Attempt at humour, Gen, crackfic, this fridge is creepy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-04
Updated: 2013-10-04
Packaged: 2017-12-28 10:23:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/990916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astray/pseuds/Astray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has a problem. A big, white problem. The fridge. He would not open it, given the choice. Alas, Sherlock is great at making him do things he normally would not. Opening the Pandora fridge is one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	John and the Fridge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meldoria Kase](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Meldoria+Kase).



> First Sherlock fanfic ever. Any OOC is my own fault - but I'd be happy if you could point it out.

Usually, John avoided the Fridge. People were wary of animals but in his case, a drooling rottweiler eyeing him like a very tasty bone was less threatening than this white, looming presence in the kitchen. He suspected the thing to turn alive when he was not looking. 

“Sherlock...”

“If you are going to ask me why I asked you for the milk, it's only because you are already standing.” 

It infuriated John to no end. No matter how many times he voiced his frustration regarding Sherlock's habit to use him as a servant: it always fell into deaf ears. Why on earth was he bothering anymore? “As opposed to you lazying around on the couch all day? Maybe you could explain me how is it possible that the sofa has not taken your shape yet?” True to form, he could not possibly let it slide. Oh, he was patient. More than patient, where Sherlock was concerned. Alas, Sherlock had a way of pushing it. Just as said genius-turned-domestic nuisance turned to reply, John cut him short: “Don't bother. Really, don't.”

“John...” There, the long suffering air of... how could he? He was the one being annoying, not him! The nerves! 

“What now?”

“The milk.” 

He was going to commit a crime very soon and the worst part would be that there'll be no one to solve the case. He would feed Sherlock with Galileo and Copernic's ideas until his head finally explodes. Or, and that would be less time-consuming, equally satisfying, and certainly easier to manage, he could accept Mycroft's invitation to spend the week-end in the Costwolds. Just to spite Sherlock. He would let the two of them argue the days away. And he would not have to deal with the Fridge. Meanwhile... 

“I hate you.” 

“That, is a lie. You can't fool me.”

Damn him, even when he did not see Sherlock's face, he could hear the self-satisfied smirk of one patting himself on the back for a job well done. Anyway, he still went to the Fridge. He took a deep breath, bracing himself against the horror he would no doubt find in there. He opened the door... and nothing happened. Nothing. The vegetables looked fresh, the cottage cheese was not making a run for it out of its container... He opened the milk bottle, and was quite surprised to notice that not only was the bottle still hermetically closed, but also that the date of consumption has not passed yet. Impressive. He closed the door and went back to the living room to bring Sherlock the milk. 

“Sherlock, I have to wonder... are you alright?”

The long-suffering sigh that answered him was a clear indicator in itself. And yet, Sherlock did elaborate: “Quite so. Why would you ask anything so remotely preposterous?”

“The milk is not turning into cheese?”

“Only because I am not as forgetful as you are so keen on thinking me to be.”

“In the grocery department, yes.” Wait a minute. “You went grocery shopping?” He was flabbergasted. No doubt, the world has been turned upside-down.

“Contrary to popular belief, I am human. Of course I'd ensure neither you nor I starve.” 

“As you wish... but you also cleared the fridge. Don't tell me that's not a bit strange.”

“Cleared the fridge?”

“And cleaned it too. No petri dishes in the eggs' rack, nothing moldy or slimy clinging to the door, waiting for me to put my hand in it, no hand, head or any other body part. Nothing.” As he made a wide gesture, emphasizing the extent of the cleaning, John nearly missed Sherlock's change of facial expression.

“What do you mean, no petri dish? There was one yesterday.” 

Had John not been so used to Sherlock's antics, he probably would have wavered under his accusatory stare.

“Don't look at me like that. I'd never touch any of your... experiments. They probably bite.” John knew that Sherlock suspected him, with good reason: it was an open secret that John hated that refrigerator. Just as Sherlock opened his mouth to speak, Mrs. Hudson waltzed in. 

“Oh, there you are. Good. I have made some stew – nothing fancy, but it's exactly what you'd need to keep warm. Dreadfully cold, these days. John, I brought some apples from the market, I'll leave them on the counter.” As she was speaking, she went around in the kitchen, absolutely devoid of the usual wariness that came with dealing with Sherlock's experiments. She acted as though the kitchen was precisely this, and no longer Sherlock's private lab. It made John all the more suspicious. 

When he asked her if, by any chance, she was the one who sorted out the Fridge. After all, Sherlock was absolutely incapable of putting everything in its right place – trifles, he would say. 

“Of course my dear. Even though I am not your housekeeper, I know how busy you are. And Sherlock cannot be counted on for these things.” She ignored Sherlock's undignified humph from the couch. “This fridge was in dire of a good scrubbing.”

For this, John could practically kiss the good woman. He just... he could not help but thank her, promising to be more careful in the future. 

“Mrs. Hudson...”

“Sherlock, I have no doubt your experiments are of vital importance to you, and this is why there is another fridge in the basement for you to use. I asked Molly, and she kindly took care of your things. You may retrieve them, as long as you promise never to use this one refrigerator for anything that is not storing food.” 

“Mrs. Hudson, with all due respect, this is none of your business.”

“Certainly. Except in case of sanitary checks. What's more... all these bacteria, it can't be good. What would you do if poor John here falls sick because your experiments?” 

She had a point. And the silence that greeted her remark indicated that he was taking it into consideration. A few seconds later, Sherlock simply let out a 'fine' that bore none of the usual resistance. So... Sherlock was taking his well-being to heart? That was a good start... maybe.


End file.
